


Flicker

by LennonMcCartney



Category: The Beatles
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2019-01-07
Packaged: 2019-01-27 17:14:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 19,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12586744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LennonMcCartney/pseuds/LennonMcCartney
Summary: In 1969 just moments after the historical Rooftop performance, John Lennon gets into an accident that would change the course of his life.With a second chance will he right the wrongs with his ex-wife or choose a love he never knew was there.





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

January 30, 1969

George Harrison, Paul McCartney, and Ringo Starr waited in one of the brown, dimly lit offices in the Apple building on Saville Row for their soon-to-be-ex bandmate. Even though they were right on time, John, of course, was late.  
They had begun talking about little things to pass the time, avoiding any topic that might disrupt the “ceasefire” from the arguing that seemed too frequent these days. Paul nervously played with the middle button of his shirt while he waited for the conversation to explode as it often did. Finally, George hit the button. “Why is it that Ritchie and I always get the short end of the stick?”  
Paul pulled himself away from the mindless movement of his fingers and looked at George, trying to find the safest way to continue. “How so?”  
“You know what I mean. Everything seems to revolve around you and John. You both always come out on top and we get left with the scraps.” George rose from his seat and began to approach Paul.  
With pleading eyes, Paul glanced at Ringo who was innocently lighting a cigarette, trying to keep himself out of this one.  
“Can we put this aside just for today? Can we focus on what this is all about? The business can wait until tomorrow.”  
George, looming over Paul, gestured toward the door. “Well, seeing as we are all waiting on John, now seems to be just a good time as any.”  
As if on cue, John walked into the office with a scared Yoko behind him.  
“Afternoon, ladies. Already squabbling, are we?” he noted as his eyes scanned the room.  
“About you, surprisingly,” Ringo added as he took the cigarette out of his mouth, blowing the smoke into cramped office.  
“What was it about? Who gets to take me home tonight?” John joked, feeling the tension lighten as the other boys chuckled.  
Paul, thankful for the momentary distraction, nodded his head towards the door. “Never mind that now; as I recall, we have plans, don’t we?”  
John’s playful mood diminished as he remembered what was about to take place. “I suppose we do,” John noted, seeing the somber looks on the other boys’ faces as he turned to walk up the stairs that led to the rooftop.

___________________________________________________

 

Despite the pleading of their roadie, Mal Evans, it seemed the police weren’t going to let this one go. Multiple offices in surrounding buildings had complained about the noise, and the officers had no choice but to bring their performance to an end. Little did they know that this was supposed to go down in history as the last time these four would perform publicly together.  
“Right then,” Paul nodded solemnly. “Quite a fitting end to a run like ours, I suppose.” Paul walked out the door with a final glance at the other three, his somewhat unspoken goodbye to the men he had come to call brothers. He wondered what would happen to these friends, these bandmates that meant so much to him.  
“Suppose it’s time for us to get going as well.” John looked toward Yoko silently, signalling it was time for them to make their exit.  
John and Yoko climbed into the back of their psychedelic Rolls-Royce with the intent of heading back to their flat. Not five minutes into the drive, while going through a busy intersection, their driver slowly came to a halt at the stop sign before continuing on through. As the driver eased onto the accelerator, another driver, not paying attention to the road in front of him, hit the Rolls-Royce directly on Yoko’s side. Yoko slid across the seat and slammed into her husband. His head hit the car window, leaving a large gash.  
Motionless in the smoke-filled car, unresponsive to the pleading calls of his wife, lay the Beatle, John Lennon.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 1

March 12, 1969

“People are starting to ask questions, Paul. We can’t keep making excuses,” Ringo said quietly as he watched Paul fidget with the fourth button of his shirt.  
“We tell them what we always do,” Paul responded dismissively, ”We are waiting until John wakes up.” He refused to look into Ringo’s eyes through the mirror, knowing that if their eyes met, Ringo would see just how distraught Paul was.  
Finally, it was George’s turn to speak. “What if he never wakes up? He has been in a coma for two months. The hospital couldn’t do anything more for him, so they sent him home with Mimi. Paul, that can’t be a good sign.”  
Paul avoided George’s stare as he walked to the door. “We aren’t having this conversation now.”  
“Yes, we are. You keep putting off this conversation just because it makes you feel uncomfortable.” Paul stopped in the doorway as George paused. “This doesn’t just involve you. It involves all of us.”  
“Of course I know this doesn't just involve me George!” He turned quickly to finally face him. “What I don’t think you understand is that John is my best friend!” Paul tried to fight back the angry tears threatening to fill his eyes.  
“These last two months have been hell for me, George. John has been at my side since I was fifteen. Fifteen! Do you know what that does to a person? To have him just... be gone?” The tears in Paul’s eyes had finally begun to fall.  
“That day, when he finally said I could be in his band, was the best day of my fucking life. He told me I was talented, that I was worth something, that I could be something! He was the first person not to dismiss my music as a silly dream.”  
The room fell silent. George could see that Paul was slowly reaching his breaking point, and he didn’t want to be the one to push him over the edge.  
The floor creaked softly under the small footsteps of the little girl in the doorway.  
Paul’s head snapped over toward the as he tried to subtly wipe the tears away. He looked down to where Heather was hiding and sighed softly.  
“Come ‘ere, love.” Paul kneeled down to comfort his adoptive daughter. She shyly made her way over to him and allowed herself to collapse into his warm embrace.  
“If Ringo and George are here, where is John?”  
Paul froze when the question left her lips. Ringo stepped in quickly.  
“Nevermind that, let’s go find your mum.” He ushered Heather out of the room leaving Paul still frozen on the floor.

___________________________________

April 9, 1969  
“I don’t think I ever asked, but how is Julian coping with the fact that his father is in a coma?”  
Cynthia busied her hands by stirring the pasta. “If I’m honest Linda, I never told him. John barely took him for visits, and I think Julian just assumes he won’t see John very much.”  
“Do you think that’s smart? To hide something like that from him? He’s a smart boy, Cynthia, he’s bound to figure it out on his own.” Linda opened the fridge to get the various cheeses for the macaroni.  
“Smart or not, I don’t want to have this conversation with him. If the time comes when he asks, I’ll be honest with him.”  
“So you would rather have your son believe that his father doesn’t even care enough to call him? That sounds like a better alternative to you?”  
Cynthia mixed the cheese into the pasta vigorously as she attempted to convince herself that she had made the right choice.  
Just as the women finished making the dish, the black phone on the wall started to ring. Linda wiped her hands off on a kitchen cloth as she went to answer the phone. Before she could even say hello, the caller immediately asked for Paul.  
Linda excused herself from the kitchen and walked to the living room where Paul and Heather were smooshed into a chair together with a guitar. Julian watched the pair with a slight pang of jealousy as Paul showed Heather where to put her hands on the instrument in front of her. “Paul, there’s a call for you.”  
Paul placed the guitar on the floor and gently lifted Heather from his lap, leaving her to play with Julian. He made his way to the kitchen and picked up the phone from the counter.  
“Hello?”  
“Paul, this is Mimi Smith. I’m calling to let you know that John has been asking for you all day and I've grown tired of his nagging.”  
Before Paul could reply, the line went dead. He could feel two sets of questioning eyes on him as the ladies waited to hear what the call was about. Paul didn’t waste time as he quickly made his way out the door and to his car before either of the women could say a word.  
Once Paul arrived at the home he had grown so fond of in his younger years, he walked toward the familiar front porch. He opened the door and fought off a chill as the memories began to fill his head. All those days he and John had spent writing their first songs together. He raised a hand to knock on the door, but it opened before he could. Mimi stood with a cold look on her face.  
“Where have you been? I’ve been waiting for over thirty minutes.”  
“I apologize, Mimi. Excuse me.” Paul gently brushed between Mimi and the door to start up the stairs. He could hear small movements from the room at the end of the hall. John’s room. He tentatively made his way down the hall and peeked through the crack where the door was opened slightly. Seeing that there was no one on the bed, Paul pushed the door open with care. His eyes found John standing in front of the mirror, examining his reflection. Slowly, John reached up and removed his glasses from where they were perched on his nose. He folded them cautiously and placed them on the cold wooden surface of the dresser before turning to see who he hoped had come to visit.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

April 9, 1969

John turned around to face Paul with a gigantic smile turning into a questioning gaze. “What the hell happened to your hair? Looks like a fucking cat died up there.”  
Paul immediately challenged what John had stated, looking at John’s own overgrown hair. “You should be one to talk,” he scoffed. “It’s the same hair that I had the last time you saw me, John. Why is it an issue all of a sudden?” He made his way to John’s bed and sat on the edge. “John, what has Mimi told you since you woke up?” he asked hesitantly, his eyes meeting “John’s with a hint of concern.  
“That I’ve been in a coma for 2 months because of an accident. Paul, what’s going on?” John moved toward the bed, and sat beside Paul.  
“John, what’s the last thing you remember?” Paul asked gently.  
“We had a long day of practice and got piss drunk to celebrate getting a new contract from The Top Ten club in Hamburg. Why?” John paused to let Paul answer, but before the other man could get a word out, another thought popped into John’s head. “Where’s Cynthia? She should be here. Has anyone told her I’ve woken up?”  
“Cynthia? Don’t you mean Yoko?” Slowly, Paul began to piece things together.  
“Yoko? Who is Yoko?”  
Paul paused briefly.  
“John, do you know what year it is?” Paul asked, and John gave him a look as if it was the stupidest question that could’ve been asked.  
“What do you mean? It’s 1959, you git,” John answered, mockingly.  
“John, can you give me a moment to call Cynthia? To see if she’s left yet.” Everything now made sense. John had amnesia. He wouldn’t be able to remember anything: not the Beatles, not the marriages, not the divorce; hell, he wouldn’t even remember Ringo.  
Paul walked out of the room, being sure to shut the door behind him. He made his way down the stairs and to the hall outside the kitchen where the phone was. He didn’t know who to call first. After a moment, he settled on Ringo and picked up the phone and began to dial the familiar number. Paul’s heart and mind were racing. He honestly didn’t know which would explode first at the rate they were going.  
“Come on, Rich,” he whispered impatiently, pacing back and forth in the hall. It had felt like an eternity since he dialed, but finally Ringo picked up.  
“Hello?” As Ringo’s voice came through, Paul let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.  
“Fucking took you long enough to answer, yea?” Paul said nervously.  
“The phone rang maybe twice, Paul;what’s the matter?”  
“Well, I’ve got a damn good idea,” he sighed as he leaned against the wall. “It’s John. He’s awake, Rich--”  
“He’s awake! Maureen, John’s awake!”  
“Rich, I don’t think he knows who you are.” The words hurt to say, especially after hearing the excitement in Ringo’s voice. “I’m sorry.” He chuckled a bit to himself before adding, “If it makes you feel any better, he doesn’t remember Yoko either.”  
“What do you mean he doesn’t remember me?”  
“John thinks he’s back in ’59. Christ, Rich, he asked me where Cynthia was! He doesn’t remember the divorce. God… He doesn’t remember Jules.” That thought struck Paul as he spoke. That poor child had already lost most contact with John; the last thing he needed was to find out that John didn’t even know he was ever born.  
“What do we do, Paul?” There was pain in Ringo’s voice as he realized that all of the great memories the two of them had shared were no longer remembered by John.  
“I don’t know. What would Brian have done?”  
“He would have made sure we all knew the situation. Have you told George?”  
Paul sighed. He knew that question had been coming. He and George had barely spoken since that day.  
“You know I haven’t. Can’t you tell him? We aren’t exactly on the best terms right now.”  
“I’ll call him, but that means you have to call Cynthia and tell her.” Paul nodded to himself.  
“Alright. That’s fair enough I suppose.” He paused for a moment before speaking again, his voice barely more than a whisper.  
“Rich?”  
“Yea?”  
“Can you just… just tell me things are going to be okay. Tell me it will all work out in the end.”  
Ringo was surprised to get a glimpse of this side of Paul. Usually, Paul was the one that acted as if nothing could touch him. He remained cool and confident when put in a tight spot, and when he would start to crumble, he would look to John to build him back up. Now he didn’t have John, and it was getting to him.  
“We’re going to figure this out, Paul. Take a breath and call Cyn.”  
“Thanks, Rich.” Paul hung up, dreading dialing the number to the Cavendish home. How would he tell her? How would he convince her to come? Would she even care? Paul slowly dialled the familiar number. The answer was almost immediate.  
“Hello?” Linda’s concerned voice came from the other end.  
“Lin, I need to talk to Cynthia.”  
“What? Why? Paul, I’ve been worried about you; you left so suddenly and didn’t bother to tell me where you were going.”  
“Linda. please, I need to speak to Cynthia. I’ll explain later.” Linda groaned in frustration and called to Cynthia, giving her the phone.  
“Paul?”  
“Cynthia, I know I’m asking a lot. And I know he’s the last person you want to see.”  
“Where are you going with this? Spit it out.”  
“John is asking for you.” Those words made something in Cynthia’s heart begin to ache. She couldn’t remember the last time John had needed her.  
“Asking for me? Are you sure he didn’t mean Yoko?”  
“He would ask for her if he knew who the hell she was,” he sighed.  
“Don’t be daft, of course he knows who she is.”  
“Cyn, he doesn’t, and that’s the problem. Can you get to Mimi’s? I’ll explain it all.” She tangled her fingers in the chord of the phone, silently weighing the possible outcomes.  
“Paul, I don’t know if I can see him so soon after the divorce.”  
“Cynthia, please. Do it for me. Not for him.” Paul paused, holding his breath in anticipation of her answer. Then finally,  
“I’ll be there in half an hour.”

__________________________________

Paul was on his second cigarette when Cynthia finally arrived. He met her halfway down the driveway. His first thought was to hug her: not to comfort Cyn, but for his own mental state. He needed something solid and unchanged, and in that moment, that was Cynthia. When he stepped back, he allowed their eyes to meet.  
“Are you ready for this?” He knew the answer, but asked anyway.  
“As ready as I can be, I suppose.” She sighed softly and wasted no time walking past Paul into the familiar house. She made her way up the stairs to John’s room, turning to look at Paul for reassurance before she entered. He gave a nod, and she turned the doorknob, gently pushing the door open. Her eyes fell right to the bed where John was sitting. She fought back tears at the sight of him. Whether they were tears of hatred or relief, she didn’t know.  
“John,” she said, trying and failing to sound cold and rigid.  
“Cynthia.” His voice broke as he finally saw who he thought was the love of his life. John got up from the bed and quickly made his way over to Cynthia. He tried to pull her into his arms, but she placed a hand on his chest, keeping them apart.  
“Sit down, John. There is something that we need to tell you.”


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

April 9, 1969

“So we made it? The band actually took off?” John sounded genuinely surprised, which Paul found entertaining. Though John liked to pretend the band was a hobby, saying he could take it or leave it, he was the one that had always had the most faith that they would make it. Hearing that his dream had come true but he didn’t remember it was devastating. John tried not to focus on it too hard. He decided to change the subject.  
“What about us?” He turned his attention to Cynthia. “Why did you push me away?”  
“We didn’t make it, John.” Cynthia placed her hands on her lap and looked at them like they were the most interesting things in the world. The silence that followed her statement was deafening. After a moment, Paul finally spoke up.  
“Cyn? Can I speak to you in the hall for a moment?” He received a look from John that he hadn’t seen in a long time: a look of possessiveness, a glint in his eyes that said he would kill Paul if he tried anything. Paul ushered Cynthia out of the room and closed the door behind them.  
“You’re going to tell him. You have to.”  
“Tell him what?” Cynthia was hoping Paul wouldn’t say what she thought he was going to.  
“About Julian. That’s his son too, Cynthia. They could have a regular relationship. John could be his father again.”  
“If you think I’m going to let him back into Julian’s life after everything that happened, you clearly don’t know me as well as you think you do. He lost the right to call Julian his child when he left us in the dirt. That is my son, Paul. Mine.”  
He couldn’t say he blamed Cynthia for her resistance. Paul had been the closest thing Julian had to a father figure for most of his life.  
“Cynthia, you have to put aside the version of John you have in your head, because the man in that room right now is not the John you’ve grown to resent. He’s the one you fell in love with, the one you met in art school. John is the man that would kill anyone who dared come near you. Think of this as more than a second chance for Julian, but for you as well.”  
“Why would I? Why should I? Paul, there have been times when you have spent more time with John than I have. Remember Paris on John’s 21st birthday? He didn’t take me. Hell, he didn’t even think about me. He wanted to spend it with you, not me.”  
Paul gave her a confused look. “What are you trying to say?”  
Cynthia tried to back track, instantly regretting getting into the subject. “If you want me to talk to him I have to do it now. If I don’t do it now I never will.” Paul nodded in understanding, letting her off the hook. Cynthia opened the door quickly and walked to stand in front of John.  
“Listen.” Before she could finish her thought, she heard Mimi arguing with someone downstairs.  
“He’s my husband. You can’t keep him from me; you’re lucky I even let him stay here.” Paul’s eyes widened at the sound of that voice. He turned to Cynthia to speak but was interrupted by the door opening.  
“John.” She smiled at the sight of him and practically ran to him. John pushed her away before she could pull him into her arms.  
“Who the hell are you?” John asked. Paul wanted to laugh, but held it back in a restrained smirk. He was probably the only person in the room that found humor in this situation, but Christ, did he hate that woman.  
“John, this isn’t a joking matter. Now that you’re awake it’s time to come home. You belong with your wife.” Yoko crossed her arms. John felt a wave of panic hit him.  
“My what?” He looked to Paul and Cynthia. “Did she say wife?” Paul ignored John and walked over to Yoko, placing a hand on her back to guide her to the back of the room.  
“Yoko, the accident affected John’s memory. He doesn’t know who you are.” Paul saw the fire in Yoko’s eyes as as she understood why John had pushed her away. She turned away from Paul to cast her glare on Cynthia.  
“I don’t want you here. You don’t belong here.”  
John was quick to stand up and step in front of Cynthia. “Maybe it’s you who doesn’t belong.”  
Yoko stepped back in surprise. She had always been the one standing behind the shield of John’s protection. It was scary for her to be on the other side.  
“John, I am your wife. I have more of a right to be here than that disgrace of a woman. She has no right to be in your life anymore.”  
“Disgrace? If anyone here is a disgrace, it’s you! The way you come in here talking to people is the real disgrace.”  
Yoko couldn’t believe the words that had left John’s mouth. Never had he talked to her in such a rude manner. After all, in her mind, the two were soulmates destined to be together until the end of time.  
Paul had finally gotten tired of the bickering. “Alright, that’s enough!” he snapped. “It’s time for everyone to start acting like fucking adults, yea?” The room went quiet. Paul wasn’t the type raise his voice over small matters. Cynthia nodded.  
“He’s right… Even though we aren’t all mentally adults, we can at least act the part.”  
Paul took control of the room again. It always helped that he had a silent aura about him that demanded your attention, almost drawing you to him. “I think right now it’s best John is with someone familiar.”  
Cynthia’s heart began to race as she thought about what Paul was going to suggest.  
“I think it would be good for him if he came to stay at Cavendish after we get everything settled,” Paul said.  
Cynthia sighed in relief. She had thought Paul might suggest that she take him in. Yoko, of course, would have none of that talk.  
“No! You know he belongs at home with his wife. Maybe this could’ve ended better if he had been in my care.”  
“Yoko, you know he doesn’t remember you,” Paul said.  
“He will once he comes home with me.”  
“I don’t thi--”  
“I’ll stay with Paul,” John finally spoke up. “Shouldn’t I be the one to decide? I’ll choose who I’m going with, and I’ve chosen him.” He sighed. “Christ, when will this day end? I need a smoke and a strong drink.” Paul gave him a small smile at that comment. Yoko glared at the two men.  
“I will deal with you tomorrow. I don’t need this stress right now. If he wants to be a big man and make his own choices, then fine. But do not come crawling back to me when they hurt you, John. You know they always hurt you.” Yoko walked out of the room quickly before John could snap back at her. Paul shook his head.  
“She’s going to be a joy to deal with isn’t she?” he chuckled, looking at John. “Here, I’m guessing you’ll want these.” He tossed John the pack of cigarettes he had kept in his pocket. “I have to go make a call. Be civil while I’m gone.” He directed the comment more at Cynthia than John, knowing she would be the one to snap.  
As Paul left the room, Cynthia shut the door gently behind him. John opened the pack and removed a cigarette from it, along with the lighter. He brought the cigarette to his lips and lit it before turning his attention to Cynthia.  
“So.” He breathed out a cloud of smoke between them. “Cynthia, what exactly happened between us?”  
Cynthia still had her palm placed on the door, using it as support for the conversation that was to happen. “I told you, John, we didn’t make it.”  
“But why?” John looked so helpless. He couldn’t understand what series of events had led him to get with his current “wife.”  
“Well, it was a lot of things. You were always away, and us never seeing each other was the biggest problem.” She took her hand off the door.  
“Why didn’t we work on it?”  
“We tried, but I came home one day, and there were you and Yoko sitting on the floor facing each other. You were so focused on each other that you barely said a word to me when I came through the door.” At this point Cynthia had finally turned around to face John. “That’s when I knew we were over.”  
John took a second to process what he had been told. Why would he give up a girl like Cynthia? She was the love of his life. He would do anything to keep her at his side. Cynthia continued.  
“Once the two of you became a pair, it affected everyone around you. You and Paul even began fighting. You pushed him away simply because she told you to.”  
“I wouldn’t do that. He’s my best mate and I wouldn’t choose some crazy bird over him.”  
“Well, face the facts, John! You did! You dropped me. You dropped Paul. You dropped everyone who had been so loyal to you for so long. Paul was so bloody broken up over it, you led him to drink. I don’t think I’d ever seen him so helpless. He’d lived so long attached to your hip that he didn’t know who he was without you.”  
John couldn’t understand what he was hearing. That wasn’t him. He wouldn’t do that.  
Paul gently opened the door and popped his head in. His eyes scanned the room. “Can I come in?” Cynthia nodded and stepped away from John.  
“You know, Cyn, I think we should be heading home.” Paul noticed that John had already begun to light his second cigarette, and Cynthia was numbly staring at the floor. She finally looked up to meet Paul’s eyes briefly.  
“I think that’s a good idea,” she said, turning to John with a look that he couldn’t describe. Something in her eyes looked frightened, yet still sympathetic. Paul walked to the door.  
“John, I’ll come by and pick you up in the morning, yea?” Paul said. John gave a soft nod, eyes focused on Cynthia as she left the room quietly.  
“Paul?” John finally turned his attention to Paul. “Does she hate me?”  
“She doesn’t hate you John… Just give her time, okay?” he sighed. As Paul walked toward the door, John held up the pack of cigarettes.  
“I suppose you want these back?” John said.  
Paul gave him a smile and chuckled. “You can keep them. Trust me, I’ve got more.”  
“Ta.” John smiled back and set the pack next to his glasses on the dresser. Paul walked out of the room with so many thoughts going through his head, some of them sympathy, some of them worry. He said a quick goodbye to Mimi and met Cynthia by the car.  
As they drove toward Cavendish, Paul tried to fill the awkward silence. “So what did you tell him?”  
Cynthia nervously toyed with a ring on her right hand. “I told him what he needed to know. We broke up because of Yoko. We didn’t work out.”  
Paul could tell she was leaving something out. “So you told him about Julian?”  
Cynthia remained quiet.  
“Cynthia, please tell me you told him about Julian.”  
“I couldn’t! I told you I couldn’t do it, Paul.” She looked over at him briefly, but averted her eyes when she noticed the disappointment on his face.  
They remained silent after that until they arrived at Paul’s home. Paul put the car in park and sighed, looking at the house in front of them. He heard a stifled noise from the other side of the car and turned to see tears falling from Cynthia’s eyes. He reached over and rested his hand on top of hers.  
“Cynthia, I know this is going to be hard. All of us will have to make sacrifices for John. “ She nodded and moved to wipe her eyes carefully. “Knowing that… Will you stay?”  
“I don’t know, Paul. Will you?”


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

April 10, 1969

John awoke to the yelling of his name.  
“John!” Mimi pounded angrily on the wooden door. “John Winston Lennon, if you do not get up this second, your breakfast will get cold! Do not make me regret cooking for you or it will not happen again.”  
John sighed as he heard angry footsteps leave his door. He sat up and rubbed his eyes as he glanced at the clock beside his bed. 6:47 AM. He was honestly surprised Mimi had let him sleep that late; he usually got the screaming treatment by 6:15. He finally dragged his tired body out of bed and made his way towards the bathroom. After closing the door, he turned to examine himself in the mirror.  
“Christ… Do I even know you?” he said softly as he ran a hand through his long hair and overgrown beard. All he wanted to do was rip it out.  
John searched around the bathroom for anything resembling a razor. Finally finding one in the second drawer on the right hand side, he again noticed the stranger in front of him and realized how desperate he was to be able to recognize himself. By the time Mimi came back upstairs to resume her yelling, she found John looking more like the boy who had told her all those years ago that he was moving to Germany. John looked up when he heard her walk into the room.  
“Mimi, will you cut my hair?”  
Mimi was taken aback by the question. She couldn’t remember the last time John had asked this of her. She quickly composed herself.  
“Go sit in the kitchen. I’ll grab my shears.”  
John smiled softly when she agreed and made his way to the kitchen quickly. He grabbed a chair, slid it to the middle of the floor, and sat down to wait. When Mimi walked in, she took a breath and ran her fingers through his long hair.  
“Look at this mess. Can’t understand how you let it grow like this.” As she started to snip off bits of long hair, she thought back to when John was a teenager telling her he needed a haircut. He was sure to tell her not to cut it too short; it needed to be long enough for him to style it just like Elvis.  
“Done. Go upstairs and wash up. Just because you think you’re a teenager doesn’t mean you need to smell like one.”  
John chuckled and kissed her cheek. “Thanks, Mimi.”  
Mimi couldn’t help but smile at the gesture. Every move he made put her right back in 1959 when he still needed her. It felt good to be needed again, but she knew it wouldn’t last. John wasn’t the type of person to let you see how truly important you were to him unless it was necessary, he needed to know you weren’t going to leave the second he let you in.  
John had just gone upstairs to wash up when Paul arrived. Mimi put out her cigarette and got up to answer the door. She was quickly brought back to 1969 when she saw the man in the doorway.  
“You were cuter when you were young.”  
Paul gave her a questioning look. “It’s good to see you as well, Mimi,” he smiled. “Can I come in?”  
Mimi rolled her eyes at him. “I don’t know Paul, can you?”  
He let out a sigh and gave her a charming smile. “Mimi, may I come in?”  
Without a word, she stepped aside. “John is upstairs in the shower. You can wait with me in the sitting room if you’d like.”  
Paul was surprised at Mimi’s invitation and quickly agreed.  
“I don’t understand you.” Mimi said without looking at him. “After all he’s put you through, you keep coming back. Why?”  
Paul was trying to answer, but couldn’t the of the right words. So Mimi continued.  
“He brought you to one of the lowest points in your life, and yet here you are.” She chuckled almost sadly. “Inviting him into your home and babying him.”  
“I’m not babying him, Mimi.”  
“Then why are you taking him to your house? He is more familiar with his surroundings here than he would be with you.” Mimi finally turned to him and smiled. “Would you like me to tell you why? Because I have a theory.” Paul stayed silent, waiting for her to continue. “I think it stems from your need to be in control. You obsess, Paul. You want him around so that you can isolate what he learns and who sees him.”  
Paul shook his head. “I may be a control freak, but I’m not that bad.”  
“Then let me ask you once again. Why doesn’t John stay with me?” Mimi placed her wrinkled hands on her lap, waiting for a reply from the young man sitting beside her. This wasn’t the same young man she had met back in ‘57. That man--no, boy; that boy never would’ve talked back to her. Yet she could see now that the man beside her was no longer that young boy.  
Before Paul could try to defend himself, John came down the stairs. Paul was shocked when he caught sight of him..  
“John… your hair.”  
“Couldn’t stand how long it had become.”  
Paul couldn’t believe how much younger John looked. “Well.” He cleared his throat. “We should get going.”  
“I’ll get my bags.” John quickly turned around to head back up the stairs and collect what little belongings were at the house.  
John came back with two small leather suitcases. Paul walked him out to the car after a short goodbye from Mimi. As soon as the door closed, Paul could feel that this would be a long ride.  
“John, when we arrive at the house, there will be people there that you don’t know right now. My fiance, our daughter, our dog, maybe--”  
“Who?”  
“Oh! The dog, Martha, real sweetheart; you’re going to love her.”  
“I wasn’t talking about the damn dog, Paul! Did you say fiance? Christ, did you say daughter?!” John turned to Paul with shock taking over his face.  
Paul sighed. “I mean, technically she isn’t my daughter by blood, but she may as well be.”  
“You settled down? I don’t believe it.”  
“Honestly, neither do I. I love them both so much. But, I should warn you about Heather. She knows you, and she doesn’t understand that you don’t know her. Step lightly around her, yea?”  
“Yea.”  
“John, you’ll like them, I know you will. Especially Linda; she’s really an incredible woman. I’m amazed with the way she seems to be able to handle everything. Even if it looks like the world is ending, she somehow comes out smiling.” There was silence for a moment before Paul continued. “I don’t think I would be here talking to you if I hadn’t met Linda.” He smiled as he said her name. “I went through… a bit of a rough patch last year. Bit too much alcohol, you know. But then she came, John. She came in and just threw some cold water on me, woke me up. She helped me get where I am now. I’m not drinking heavily; I’m not fucking everything with a heartbeat.” He chuckled. “Seems she’s given me a heart.” Paul chuckled again, smiling as he pictured Linda, Heather, and even Martha waiting eagerly for his return.  
John looked over at Paul as his curiosity finally got the best of him. “What put you in such a bad place?”  
Paul’s eyes widened a bit. How was he supposed to explain to John that he was the reason?  
“Just a combination of things, I suppose. Don’t worry about me right now, okay? I’m okay now. Linda saw to that.”  
John and Paul were silent until they pulled up to the wrought iron gate that protected what John thought to be a mansion.  
“You live here? You bought this place?” John asked in surprise. Paul smirked.  
“Yea, I bought it in ‘65, but Linda and I are thinking of selling it for something more family friendly.”  
John nodded and looked out the window to see a sickeningly perfect scene. Fiance on the front porch, child in the yard, and a dog rolling in the tall grass to top it all off. This wasn’t the Paul he knew. The Paul he knew would never settle down like this. He would be trying to get a new girl here every night, drinking alcohol they stole from their parents and smoking cigarettes they rolled themselves. John was snapped out of his reverie when Paul opened the door to get out of the car and greet Linda. John went to retrieve his bags from the boot, trying to extend the time before he would have to become reaquainted with Linda and the child. Finally, Paul turned to John with a proud smile.  
“John, this is my fiance Linda.” Linda gave a polite smile and held out a hand.  
“It’s nice to meet you again, John; Paul talks about you a lot.”  
“And this here,” Paul said as he motioned to the seven-year-old standing behind Linda, “is Heather.”  
“Are you still sick, John? Mom told me you were sick.” The small girl looked up at the tall lanky man, waiting patiently for an answer.  
“Yes, I don’t seem to remember things quite like I used to.” John messed with his hair, feeling the protruding scar from the accident just above his ear.  
“That’s okay; I’ll help you remember everything!” Heather grabbed John’s hand, leading him inside house with Paul, Linda, and Martha closely behind.  
“Heather, love, go easy on him. You can’t force him to remember things, all right?” Paul sighed as he watched the young, determined girl drag John into the house. It was laughable how much she was like Paul even though she wasn’t his flesh and blood. “Go help Mum start dinner while I show John up to his room.” Paul grabbed one of John’s bags for him and led him up the stairs.  
“This will be your room, John.” Paul opened the door to reveal a small space with white walls, a bed, some lamps, and a plant on the windowsill. “I know it isn’t much, but we can make it more like home for you.” He smiled and put the bag down.  
“It’s alright, Macca; I don’t really have room to complain, do I? You’re putting me up in your home with your kid and fiancee. I’m grateful.” John caught a glimpse of the two of them in the small mirror hanging on the wall. John could see that he had aged, not much, but enough to be noticed. Paul, on the other hand, still looked so young. He still had the same soft clear skin, jet black hair, and warm demeanor about him that he always had. John was snapped from his thoughts by the sound of Linda calling them both for dinner.  
“Come on then, she’s an excellent cook.” Paul smiled and walked out the door of the small bedroom.  
Both the men had enjoyed the dinner of veggie pot pie and were talking about nonsense when the doorbell rang. Paul went to go answer it and smiled when he saw who was behind the door.  
“Evenin’, lads,” Paul greeted George and Ringo. “We’re just finishing dinner, come on in.” Paul shut the door behind them and looked up when John entered the room.  
“George? Is that you?” he smiled sweetly. “Wow.. you look so different.” His gaze then turned to Ringo. “And you must be the drummer.” Ringo gave a soft nod. For a moment, there was silence.  
“Rich?” Paul finally spoke up. Ringo looked up at John.  
“You honestly don’t remember me?” he sounded defeated. Ringo already felt like an outsider in the band since he didn’t write; now to John, he really was.  
“I’m sorry, son, but I don’t.”  
Ringo tried to fight back a smile at the nickname. It didn’t matter your age; if you were a friend of John’s, you were most likely called ‘son’ at some point or another. Paul tried to break the silence.  
“Here’s a thought: why don’t we head up to the music room for a bit, yea? I found an old recording the other day from the Please Please Me sessions.” Paul smiled at George. Without waiting for agreement, he started up the stairs. John was confused as he stepped into the room and looked around at all the pictures of himself that he didn’t remember being taken. He looked so much better clean shaven, why did he ever think that facial hair was a good idea? Finally, he saw something he did recognize--a guitar. He walked to the corner of the room and picked up one of the simpler looking six-string acoustics.  
“Christ, is this a Gretsch?” John’s eyes lit up as he looked the expensive guitar over. Paul nodded.  
“It was yours.”  
Something about the guitar felt so familiar in John’s hands. As the other three started to talk amongst themselves, John sat in one of the chairs. Paul, George, and Ringo went quiet when they heard strumming. Paul was surprised John had started to play, but that wasn’t what surprised him the most. It was the song choice. 

“Come and go with me  
Down to the penitentiary”

John had a big smile on his face as he sang the second line of his version of “Come Go With Me.” Looking at Paul, he kept singing, but instead of joining him, Paul turned away and headed to the back of the room.  
John stopped, thinking that he had done something wrong, but Paul came out with his own guitar, playing the notes and urging him to keep going. George had found a guitar as well and sat beside Paul, improvising an accompaniment. Ringo, once again, felt left out. He felt like the band just didn’t need him anymore. This wasn’t a new feeling for him, he’d always been in the background. This just reassured the feeling.  
“Rich?” John looked up at him. “Care to join us, mate?”  
Soon all the boys were playing the song, having a good time as if nothing had happened. As if John remembered everything. As if the Beatles were never going to break up.  
The boys had felt like they had been playing for hours, it was like they had been in their own world as time passed them by.  
After about an hour, George and Ringo left to get home to their families. Paul was putting the guitars away and getting the room back in order when he couldn’t let it go any longer.  
“John… can I ask you something?”  
“I don’t see why not.”  
“Why that song?”  
John wanted to explain the real reason, but didn’t. Instead he attempted to reply with humor, the way he always did in uncomfortable situations. “It’s the only song I know.”


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

April 13, 1969

“John, I want to show you something.” Paul placed all of his dishes from breakfast in the sink and motioned for John to follow him to his favorite room in the house--his music room. When everything else was too much, this room was a representation of what he had spent his entire life trying to achieve. It held numerous awards and plaques to remind him of his success, but also it held his instruments to show him there was still more he could accomplish. When the two turned the corner, Paul broke the comfortable silence. “Point to anything, and I’ll tell you a story that goes along with it.”  
John studied the pictures on the walls surrounding him. Something about each image seemed so familiar to him, but he couldn’t recognize them at all.  
“Okay… what about this one, what’s going on here?” John pointed to their first album Please, Please Me. Paul smiled gently.  
“That album almost broke us before we even had a chance to get started. We spent twelve straight hours recording. Thankfully our time in Germany kicked our arses into shape when it came to singing for hours on end, so it just took one more good push to get through all the songs. One of our most famous songs came from that album, you know.”  
John walked up to the record, examining the photo that was right beside it. They all looked so young, so full of life.  
“See him?” John smiled as he pointed to a young smiling Paul. “Where did he go? He was so carefree and witty. But you? You’re a bloody adult now, aren’t ya? Serious and mature. Why don’t you just let loose, be him.”  
“You know, it was fun being him, but now I have Linda, and Heather, and even Martha. In a way I’m still him, but just a bit different, you know.”  
John nodded. In the corner of the room was a Life magazine titled “Paul is Still With Us.” “What happened here? Did you die or something?”  
“You know, some people would say so. In ‘66 I got in an accident, and for some reason people started to say I died and was replaced with a clone. Honestly, I think it’s quite amusing, you know?” Paul chuckled. “They might think you're dead, too; you know, you got in that crash. Maybe you got replaced? Are you John Lennon, or his clone?”  
John laughed and shook his head. “You’ve gone bloody mad, McCartney.”  
Paul shrugged. “Madness comes with genius.” He nodded slightly as he looked at the picture on the cover of the magazine. A knock on the door woke him from his thoughts. “Oh, that must be Cynthia.”  
John looked up. “Why is Cynthia here? Paul… Did you get me a babysitter?” John knew Paul had to go discuss business with the other boys today.  
Paul sighed guiltily as he went to open the door. “Hey, Cyn,” he smiled, softly motioning for her to come in. “I really have to get going or I’ll be late; be back around 3.” Paul shut the door and let out a deep breath, hoping he hadn’t just set up a bomb that could go off in his house.  
The short walk to the studio gave Paul a chance to think about what had happened the last few days. His best friend woke up from a coma and didn’t remember the last ten years of his life. George was on his back about whether the band was through or not. Ringo was being too quiet about what he wanted. Paul knew that the road ahead of him was going to be a rough one, but one he had to take nonetheless.  
Arriving at the familiar building, Paul dreaded the conversation that he had been purposely avoiding. He didn’t want to go in. “Bullocks,” he sighed to himself, but finally walked up the stone stairs that led to the front door. He hesitated for a second with his hand on the doorknob before finally turning it and stepping inside. His eyes landed on Ringo. “Is George here yet?”  
“He was the first. I had to step out of the room. He’s not in the mood to joke around, Paul. He’s tired of us walking on eggshells with this whole John business.” Ringo sighed. Paul gave a soft nod of understanding. He knew he had finally hit a dead end. There was nowhere else for him to run and hide from this conversation.  
“I honestly didn’t think you would show.” George said as he walked in and leaned on the doorway and looked up at Paul, eyes following his every move. “We can’t avoid this anymore, Paul. We need to have this talk.”  
“You already know my answer. He isn’t ready, George. It’s too soon for him. He woke up four days ago, for Christ’s sake!”  
“Would you stop mothering him? He is an adult, Paul, and knowing John, he’s getting restless. Until he walks through that door and tells me to my face that he can’t do it, I won’t believe it. We need to start recording. So swallow your god damn pride. Shut off your neurotic, controlling brain for five minutes so he can think for himself!”  
“Stop! Both of you! I’m so sick of sitting here while you two fight. You fight about everything. If someone asked you what year it was, you would somehow find a way to disagree.” Ringo sighed as if a weight had finally been lifted off his shoulders. “Can we act like fucking adults for a minute so we can think about this rationally? George, you’re right. We do need to get back to recording. But Paul, you’re also right. We need to think of John and make sure we aren’t rushing him.”  
“You two don’t get it.” George shook his head “John is not a child; no matter how old he thinks he is, he is capable of coming to the studio and doing what needs to be done.”  
“Fine. But if it’s too much for him, if it breaks him, I’m putting all the blame on you.” Paul glared at George, making sure his words resonated. Even Ringo didn’t want to meet Paul’s stare. Paul was one of the sweetest men Ringo knew, but was the last person you would ever want to cross.  
“So… Item number two,” Ringo said softly. “Yoko.”  
“We just got rid of the She-Devil, and you have to bring her back.” Paul exhaled loudly as he walked to the office chair to sit. “Yoko is something that John has to figure out for himself. No matter what state he’s in, this is still his tragedy of a marriage.”  
“For once, I agree with him.” George sits up in his seat “Yoko isn’t our problem to deal with; she’s his.”  
“Yes, but does he even know she’s a problem to deal with?”  
Paul sighed. “It isn’t a matter of if he knows or not, Rich. It’s a matter of whether he’ll deal with it or not. You know how much he hates confrontation.”  
“He’s done this before, Paul. His divorce with Cynthia may not have been pretty, but it was a clean break,” George noted.  
“Well… It would be easy if he knew he had been married before Yoko.” Paul looked down, avoiding eye contact.  
“What are you saying?” Ringo looked to Paul with pleading eyes.  
“Cynthia didn’t tell him they were married. He doesn’t even know Julian exists. Cynthia told him they just didn’t make it. To her credit, she did not lie to him, but she definitely didn’t give him the whole truth.”  
George sighed. “Either we tell him everything, or we wait for Cynthia to.”

\---------------------------------------------------

“So are you going to just admit it, or do I have to force it out of you?” John looked over at Cynthia.  
Cynthia smiled nervously. “Admit what?”  
John rolled his eyes. “That overbearing Mother Macca sent you to babysit me.”  
Cynthia chuckled in relief. “he’s just looking out for you, John. You know how he is.”  
“No, I know how he used to be. He never used to be this uptight. You know that.”  
“Well, either way, I think it’s sweet that he cares enough to have someone look after you.” Cynthia smiled as she collected the dishes from their lunch and walked them to the sink. She ran some water and added a bit of soap. “Come here, help me with the dishes.”  
John sighed and reluctantly rolled up his sleeves, searching for a towel to dry the dishes with. “Here, I’ll wash you dry.” He got to work washing the dishes and handed them to Cynthia.  
“Hey, come on now, you’re dripping water all over the place! Martha is doing more of the drying than you are, Miss Powell.”  
Cynthia gave him a stern look. “John Lennon, I haven’t heard that name since art school, and I still don’t like it.” They glared at each other for mere seconds before John’s inner child took over. He took a handful of the bubbles and blew them in Cynthia’s face.  
“John!” she yelled, but the giggle that followed took all the edge from it. Just as she got her own handful of bubbles, John grabbed her wrist. John couldn’t help himself. He leaned in to kiss her, and for a moment, Cynthia could feel herself leaning too. But she stopped herself.  
“John, we can’t...”  
“Why? Why don’t I deserve a second chance?”  
“It has nothing to do with who deserves what. It can’t happen. I should go.” She put the towel on the counter and headed for the door.  
“Cyn, wait,” he said, following after her.  
“John, please.” She looked down. Tears had filled her eyes, and the last thing she wanted was for John to see her cry.  
“Give me one good reason why we shouldn’t give this another shot.”  
“Because you hurt me the first time around, and I won’t let it happen again.”


	7. Chapter 6

April 15, 1969

John woke up the next morning with the same frustration he had become accustomed to. The frustration of not being able to remember. He sighed, sat up in bed, and contemplated getting up and dressed, a decision quickly made for him when he smelled the food Linda must have been making.  
Slowly making his way down the wooden staircase he was greeted with the sounds of a family moving through their familiar morning routine. Heather was already rambling on about, what John could only assume was, something she would be doing in school that day. Paul, of course, sat attentively and listened as she went on excitedly. Linda was the first to greet John with a welcoming smile  
“Morning John, are you hungry?”  
“He should be. You know John, we’ve got a lot to do today.” John walked over to the empty seat next to Heather; grabbing a plate in the process to begin serving himself.  
“What is there to do?”  
“We have to go to the studio to record. There are a few songs we’ve been sitting on and George is starting to get antsy...so we figured it was time to get recording again.”  
John gave a nod of understanding, going back to his food. A few bites in he stood up from the table  
“Be right back, gonna have a smoke,” John slipped on shoes and walked out the front door. As John sat on the steps of the front porch he lit his cigarette, his mind began to race. He was nervous about the studio, what if he messed up in front of the others? What if they thought he was useless to the band? What if he ruined everything?  
Taking the cigarette out of his mouth a small “Dammit, Paul” could be heard from John’s lips. Paul, of course, worried him the most. There was a balance between the two of them, John fucked up and Paul fixed it. This time, however, John certainly had fucked up but Paul couldn’t help him. In John’s mind, he was alone.  
John knew nothing except for the fact that he knew nothing. He could only play enough guitar to get by, and Paul was good when they were kids; he could only imagine the amount he’s advanced in 10 years. John was finally brought back from his thoughts when the cigarette burnt his fingers. He gasped as he dropped it on the ground.  
“Christ, I need to get out of my head,” John sighed and made his way back inside the house.  
As the front door shut, all talking from the kitchen seemed to come to a halt. There was a moment of awkward silence before Paul walked towards John wiping his hands with a dish rag.  
“You know we should get going, George is already close enough to murdering me, don’t need to give him another excuse,” Paul chuckled to himself as he grabbed a jacket and tossed the rag on the kitchen counter. He walked over to Linda and kissed her gently then yelled a quick goodbye to Heather before walking out the door, expecting John to follow.  
“So are you excited? I have a feeling this album is going to be bloody fantastic you know?”  
John simply nodded, “Yea, I’m sure it will be…” He wished he could agree full heartedly but he couldn’t.  
Paul didn’t push it. John seemed to be in thought and he felt no need to interrupt. They had finally gotten to the studio to see Ringo standing outside the main entrance.  
“What are you doing out here?” Paul questioned.  
Ringo scoffed, “You think I wanna be in there alone with Harrison? No way.”  
Paul laughed in amusement as he walked passed Ringo and into the building, “Welcome home John. We’re gonna practically be living here for the next couple months.”  
George suddenly peeked his head out from the door of Studio 2, “Come on then, we have catching up to do.”  
The three boys quickly shuffled into the room, John is the last one staying in the doorway to take in the sight in front of him. It was like a dream come true, but a nightmare as well. In a studio recording music was where he had always wanted to be, he just wished he knew what lead him to this moment.  
“John? You gonna come in?” Paul looked at John, seeing how tentative he appeared to be about entering the studio. Finally, though John stepped in, looking around before finding a seat. “Alright um...I suppose we could start with one of John’s songs and see how it goes. George what was the one we were working on before...well you know”  
“It was I Want You, we were just about halfway through it when the accident happened and John decided to forget everything.”  
For once John didn’t snap back at George, though he easily could have.  
“Well I’m ready. Let’s finish it.” John stood up and walked over to where Paul was setting the tapes.  
“Let me play you what we had so far ok? We just had some rough vocals and a bit of melody you plucked out on the guitar.” Paul began to play the tape. John couldn’t believe what he was hearing. His voice on tape? Him playing the guitar?  
“That’s me doing that? All of it?” John asked in disbelief.  
“Well I played the bass, Ringo laid down the drums, and George handled some of the other guitar bits, but yea. That’s you, John,” Paul smiled, “So let’s get into it, grab your guitar and we can get working.” Paul moved to grab his bass so he could work out his own piece of the melody. He reached over and pulled his notebook off the piano, setting it on a chair beside the two of them.  
“What’s that?” John looked at the scribbled words and other markings.  
“Oh, I wrote the chords down so we wouldn’t lose them. I had you jot the lyrics down as well seeing as you were a bit high when you figured some of them out. I didn’t want to miss out on a great song when you sobered up.”  
“High?” John knew he smoked cigarettes, hell everybody did, but what would he have done to get high?  
“You know...high? We um, we’ve done quite a bit of recreational type drugs you know. Most of them harmless,” Paul smiled a bit, “But that’s not important the song. We wrote these new chords just before the accident so why don’t you start from the top and play through. Also, we changed the major fifth in the second verse to a minor third so watch out for that. Makes the vocal a bit more haunting against the guitar you know?”  
John took a breath and looked over the chords, some of them he recognized but most of them he didn’t. What’s a fifth? What was Paul talking about? ‘Ok focus John’ He thought to himself  
“Ok John, ready?” Paul looked to John motioning him to get ready. John started trying to play the first few chords when Paul stopped him.  
“What are you playing? That’s not what we have down.” Paul had tried his best not to be controlling, but in the studio, he couldn’t help himself. “Just play what we have written.”  
John nodded and started trying to play again, it only took a few more attempts for Paul to get frustrated. “John! You’re still playing the major fifth chord progression instead of the minor one we added!” he sighed, “Can you just let me play it so we can get on with the song?”  
“Why do you keep fucking doing that?!” John yelled  
“Doing what!”  
“You treat me like a bloody child, Paul! Christ, you act like I’ve gone brain dead.”  
“John, what are you talking about?” Paul sighed, setting his bass down.  
“I’m talking about the way everyone goes silent when I walk into the room. I’m talking about the way you refuse to explain anything to me. You’re so vague when talking to me about my own fucking life, Paul. And to top it all off, you’re hiding things from me. Are you ever going to tell me about it?”  
Paul’s heart sunk into his stomach. John knew. John knew about Julian and he knew about the divorce, but how? Linda didn’t tell him and it sure as hell wasn’t him or Cynthia.  
“W-what are you talking about?” Paul was scared to hear John confirm his fear.  
“Come on Paul...even a blind man could see that you're lying to me. I know you're hiding things from me I just can't tell what,” John put his guitar down and got up, “Finish the fucking song yourself.” He made his way to the door of the studio and outside where he could get some fresh air. He took a good breath as he reached into his pocket for a cigarette, only to realize his pack wasn’t there.  
“Need a smoke?” Ringo’s voice came from behind John, “I have a light too.” he moved to sit beside John on the concrete steps outside the building, handing him a cigarette and lighting it for him. “Don’t take it personal John...you know how Paul is.”  
“That’s the thing, Ritchie! I don’t know how he is!” John sighed and took a drag from his cigarette.  
Ringo thought for a moment. “Remember when you first brought Paul into The Quarrymen? Remember how he slowly began to basically take over the band. You do know how he is John. He’s a control freak, a ringleader, bloody annoying sometimes, but he’s your best mate. I know it may not seem like it, but he is trying to help in his own stupid way.”  
“I can’t play the song…” John admitted in a moment of weakness, “I can’t play the chords, Rich. He’s throwing all this talk of major fifths in my face and I have no clue what he’s on about.”  
“Then tell him that, John. Paul may be stubborn but he’s also oblivious. He overworks himself in the studio and lets his passion blind him.”  
John nodded as he put the cigarette out, tossing it into the street. “You’re right, Thanks, Rich,” he smiled gently and walked back into the studio. He closed the door behind him. “Teach me.”  
Paul looked up at him, “Teach you what?”  
“The chords, how to play. You taught me a bit before, you can teach me now.”  
Paul nodded and stood up “Ok...I guess I could do that. Lets, um, go to one of the other studios and let George and Ringo work in here,” he grabs two of the acoustic guitars and heads for the door, leading the two of them to a new studio.  
Paul set the guitars aside and put two chairs face to face. He grabbed a guitar and sat down, motioning for John to do the same. “Alright then Lennon, let’s teach you how to play the guitar.” He smiled and got to work showing John the various notes and how to string them together to make chords. Little did John know, Paul was teaching him one of their older songs. Paul was so used to working with John like this that he hardly noticed they were both playing the correct chords. John was playing parts of the song Paul hadn’t taught him yet. Paul stopped when he heard John began to hum his harmony to one of their most complicated vocal pieces. If I Fell had always been praised for how intricate the vocal melodies and harmonies were.  
“John…”  
John looked up to see what was wrong. “Christ, Paul you’ve gone pale. You alright?”  
Paul’s face broke into a massive smile. “John you’re playing our song! That’s our song and I didn’t even have to teach you. You know what this means right?”  
“I remembered something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With finals being next week there will not be a new chapter


	8. Chapter 7

April 15, 1969

John and Paul entered Cavendish with joy written all over their faces.  
“Lin! You wouldn’t believe what happened in the studio today.” The smile on Paul’s face was contagious, a type of smile she hadn’t seen in a long time.  
“Well? What happened?” She asked as she took a seat in the living room.  
“John remembered one of our old songs. It was amazing, he just started playing like it was second nature.”  
“I didn’t even realize I was doing it.” John shrugged and sat beside her. Before Paul could sit, Linda was on her feet.  
“Paul? Can I speak to you for a moment?” She didn’t want to ruin the excitement, but this couldn’t wait. Paul nodded and walked with her to the kitchen.  
“Everything ok?” Paul asked nervously “Yoko called.”  
Paul flinched softly at the name, “What did she want?”  
“What do you think? She wants to see John.”  
Paul sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Can we deal with this tomorrow? Everything’s been so nice today Lin...It was a good day and I don’t want to ruin that.”  
“Paul, you need to tell him soon, she’s coming tomorrow.”  
“I will tell him, just not now ok? It was such a good day and I’m not gonna let her ruin that.”  
Linda nodded in understanding. She couldn’t say she wasn’t worried. Paul had a habit of avoiding bad things. Though his optimism was refreshing, it made her nervous that he would never deal with the bad parts of life.  
Paul walked into the living room where he found John pouring scotch into glasses for a celebratory drink. He hands Paul a glass and smiles.  
“Here’s to my shitty memory and your growing family.” John looks to Linda, “Congratulations by the way.”  
John and Paul both raise their glasses with smiles on their faces.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
April 16, 1969  
“I don’t want to see her.” John groaned as he sat the dining room table with Paul and Linda.  
“John she is still technically your wife, you can’t just avoid her,” Paul said from across the table.  
“I can and I will.”  
“Come on John, you always say I’m babying you, now is your chance to man up and face her.” Just as Paul finishes speaking, someone knocks on the door. A dead silence hits the room, all of them knowing who was on the other side. Linda is the first to move, going to answer the door.  
“Good morning Yoko, come in”  
“Where is John?” Linda motioned toward the kitchen.  
Paul was sitting quietly with John, talking about a song he had found in an old notebook of his, trying to get John’s opinion on the lyrics. Their serene setting was suddenly disrupted when Yoko entered the room.  
“John. I need to speak privately with you.”  
“Whatever needs to be said, can be said in front of Paul.”  
Yoko visibly stiffened at the way John jumped to Paul’s defense.  
“Fine. I want you to come home. It’s time.” Yoko sat at the head of the table, making it clear she would not leave without a fight.  
“No.” John sat up straight making it obvious that he was in no mood to play games with her.  
“No? What do you mean no?” Yoko sat up a bit in her seat.  
“I want a divorce. I want out of this marriage, a marriage I’m no longer part of.”  
“You must be joking, John.”  
“You think so? I’m being quite serious actually. I don’t know you. Why the hell would I stay in a marriage to a complete stranger? I’ll be speaking with a lawyer to begin the divorce as soon as I can.”  
“I knew having that woman back in your life would ruin things.”  
“What woman?” John questioned.  
“Cynthia!” Yoko shouted, “This is her speaking John, this isn’t you.”  
“I can speak for myself. She does not control me, in fact, she’s a bit wary of me and I have a feeling you’re part of the reason.”  
“Paul,” Yoko turned to Paul, who had been quiet through the whole conversation. “You have to reason with him, tell him he’s being crazy.”  
Paul had to fight off a laugh, settling on a smile instead, “Really? You think of all people in this room that I’ll put in a good word for you? I think he’s completely justified in his actions, Yoko.” Paul stood and walked to where Yoko was seated, “You ruined my best friend. You made him your little pet and got him addicted to mind-numbing chemicals. You destroyed him as a person and ruined a wonderful relationship.”  
Yoko seemed to get the hint that she was no longer welcome. She stood abruptly and walked out the front door, being sure to slam it on her way out.  
John sat quietly, letting Paul’s words run through his mind.  
“John? Why don’t we go work on some lyrics for that song I showed you.” Paul asked with a nod toward the stairs.  
“Yea. Yea that sounds like a good idea.” John rose from his seat, still mentally tripping over what Paul had said to Yoko. She ruined his relationship? Got him addicted to things? What was that about?  
As the two men entered the music room, John let his eyes wander again. It had become his favorite thing to do in this room, just to look around and ask questions about all the pictures and instruments. John walked over to a picture that seemed to stand out among a few others, he couldn’t place one of the men in the picture, but his heart ached at the sight of him.  
“Paul?” he asked with a quiet, almost solemn voice.  
Paul walked to stand beside him, “What’s wrong?”  
“Who is this man?” John asked as he pointed to the unfamiliar man.  
“You know, that’s Brian.” Paul chuckled as he remembered that day, “I know you don’t remember him John, but he was...God, he was so important to us. Brian is the reason we made it, he didn’t really know what he was doing, but somehow he helped make us what we were. We loved him dearly, you loved him dearly.”  
“Why? Were we close?”  
Paul chuckled gently, “Yea I guess close is the word for it. Christ John, he was in love with you, you know. He was helpless when it came to you.”  
“Our manager was queer?!” John was shocked. “How the hell did that happen? Those are the kids we used to make fun of!”  
Paul smiled and shook his head, “It never bothered you, hell you went on vacation with the man.”  
John’s eyes widened, “I what?”  
“You went on a holiday with him, the two of you took half a month in Spain together. Seems like you had a rather good time.”  
John noticed a glint of something in Paul’s voice, be it jealousy or something else John couldn’t tell, but why would Paul be jealous of this Brian guy?  
“He was a good man John, don’t let anyone ever tell you different. He was nice enough to pretend he fancied me just so I wouldn’t be hurt.”  
John looked down, still silent.  
“John? What’s wrong, mate?”  
“I feel so terrible for not being able to remember him...It seems like you have such a fondness and love for him, and that I should as well, but I can’t place him in my head.” But as soon as the words left John’s mouth, something came to mind. A day he and Brian spent while together in Spain. Brian was laughing, smiling. He was saying something flirty to John, but John didn’t feel discomfort at the memory, he felt a warm fondness. Given the option to go back, John could see himself reciprocating these advances. He could feel himself tearing up, he could feel the pain from missing this man. He missed him, though he only had one memory of him, he missed him. This seemed to be another big part of John’s life he simply could not piece together in his mind, just like the things Paul had said earlier. Again his mind began to race through those words.  
“Paul...What did you mean when you said Yoko got me addicted to things? And when you said she ruined my relationship?”  
Paul seemed to freeze in his tracks. “What?”  
“Earlier when you were yelling at Yoko, you said she got me addicted to things and ruined my relationship.”  
“Let’s not worry about that right now, John.”

A/N First of all hope you all had happy holidays! Second of all this chapter has not been edited, but we wanted to put something out for all of our readers. Lastly, we are looking for an editor and was wondering if any of you would be interested, message me if you are!


	9. Chapter 8

April 15, 1969

“Are you fucking jokin’? Don’t worry? Paul, it’s obvious you know something that you aren’t telling me.” John glared at Paul.  
“You’re being ridiculous John.”  
“Am I? ‘Cus last time I checked it’s my fuckin’ life and I deserve to know all the gory details. I’m not some kid whose eyes you have to cover when the world gets nasty.”  
“I’m not mothering you, John, for the last time.” Paul sighed, “why don’t you understand, I’m protecting you.”  
Linda had heard the conversation and went upstairs to see what the problem was. “Boys? Is everything ok?”  
Her presence went unnoticed in the tense room.  
“Cut the bullshit! You aren’t protecting me at all!”  
Linda cut in, “John, he has done nothing but try and help.”  
John quickly turned to her, “stay out of this! It has nothing to do with you.”  
“Don’t speak to her that way, John. She’s just attempting to keep the peace around here.” Paul took Linda’s hand. “She took you into her home and took care of you. “And when the hell did I ask her to do that? ‘Cus I don’t recall it happening. Then again, it seems there’s a lot of things these days that I don’t recall. Would you care to remind me of your own censored version of the conversation?” John challenged.  
“You never had to ask us to care for you John,” Linda added softly.  
“We took you in because, even though you’re an arse, you’re my best mate and I wasn’t gonna leave you with Mimi. I was doing what was best for you.”  
“Christ, here we go again. What makes you think you’re the one person in the world who knows what’s best for me, Paul? You’re the reason I don’t know who the hell I am! Because you think the best thing for me is to filter my past and spoon feed me a glittery version of it!”  
Paul shook his head and looked down, “John, I don’t think you understand.”  
“What am I not understanding here?” John crossed his arms, not ready to let Paul worm out of the fight.  
“I can’t tell you the whole truth because you can’t handle it!” Paul finally snapped.  
“How do yo-”  
Paul cut him off before the end of his question.  
“You’re a fucking child John Lennon! An over sensitive, ego-driven child! The second the world stops spinning in the direction you demand it too, all hell breaks loose! I’ve spent 12 years taking care of you because no one else wanted to! I’ve looked out for you every time you got piss drunk and could barely walk. I’ve gotten you through the time you almost killed a man for calling you a fag and the time you thought you were bigger than Jesus. I’ve stood by your side every god damn year even though you have given me every reason not to!”  
“Then stop! Stop holding my hand! I don’t need this, Paul. I don’t need you!”  
The silence sat heavy between them, almost daring one of them to make another move. John had said his piece and Paul was taking it in. The words hit him like a freight train. He’d spent his entire life making sure John made it out ok, and it was all for nothing. All of that work, only to be told he wasted his time. John stood up and made his way to the door, grabbing his coat from the hook on the wall. He turned and gave Paul one last look.  
“I don’t need you.” He repeated. He didn’t know who he was trying to convince, himself or Paul. John quickly walked out the front door. He started walking, where he was going he really didn’t know, but in that moment it didn’t matter to him. All he wanted was to get away from the scene of his blow up. He kept walking until his feet suddenly stopped. He looked up to see that he had ended up at Abbey Road studios.  
“Christ, can’t I get away from him?” John sighed to himself as he finally walked in the door. The secretary at the desk looked up and assumed he was meant to be there.  
“Mr. Harrison is in studio 2.” She gave a friendly smile and went back to her paperwork.  
John walked down the corridor and straight into the studio “You’ll tell me the truth, right?”  
George looked up from the guitar in his hands and up to the man pacing in front of him.  
“You hate me so you have no reason to spare my feelings, you’ll be honest with me.” John continued.  
“I don’t hate you, John...But I do believe honesty is the best path, so yes I will be honest with you.”  
“What did she do to me? What did Yoko do?”  
George set the guitar on the stand next to him and leaned forward in his chair, “She messed up, not just mentally, but physically too. She put you on this massive diet that left you with only skin and bones. She got you hooked on every kind of drug that there is, and left us to pick up the pieces.She took you and made you a shell of the person you were, she made it so without her there was no you.” John stopped pacing and stared at George. “You began bringing her to the studio, to meetings, to places that she had no business being. And just when we thought she wasn’t there, there she was in the corner watching like the damn she-devil. She ruined your life, John, you had everything going for you, you had a wonderful wife and--”  
“I had a wife?” John’s heart skipped a beat, finally, he was getting somewhere in the mystery of who he was.  
“Yes… you had a wife.” George sighed, “I said I wouldn’t lie to you so I’m going to give you the truth. You and Cynthia married in 1963, I won’t tell you why. That’s her information to share with you, not mine.”  
“Cynthia and I were married? We divorced? Why?”  
“You won’t like the answer…” George pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pocket, lighting one.  
“Tell me.”  
“You cheated on her with Yoko. Some part of your brain thought Yoko was the missing piece to the puzzle of your life. Even Krishna couldn’t save you at that point. Yoko became your sun and your moon and you became a right twat to Cyn.”  
“I messed up...I’ve met Yoko and she seems terrible. Why would I leave Cynthia for that woman?”  
“We all tried to figure that out, John...Paul especially. You hurt him the most of the three of us.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“Paul was your best friend John. The two of you were practically joined at the damn hip. But then you got into all these drugs and you didn’t spend as much time with him, but when Yoko came along you ditched him completely. Suddenly he was the enemy and Yoko convinced you he was ruining everything for you. Paul was crushed when you stopped hanging around with him. Part of the reason the poor lad started drinking. He depended on you and you left him.”  
“Christ, you make it seem like he was me, fuckin’ girlfriend.” John sighed and sat down.  
“It’s not something to joke about, John. Paul may get on my nerves by being a controlling pest, but he’s still a good man and you broke him down.”  
The guilt was too much for John. Especially after the fight, he’d just had with Paul, telling him he didn’t need him. He’d left him all over again. Caused the same pain he had when he joined Yoko. He needed to change the subject.  
“I need to see Cynthia.”  
“What? Now?”  
“Yes. Now. I need to talk to her about all of this.”  
George sighed and stood up, putting the guitar in its place. “Ok...here, get in the car. It’s the black one right in front.” George tossed John the keys, “I have to make a call.”  
John gave a nod and made his way out to the car.  
George went to the corner of the studio where they kept a phone and dialed Paul.  
“Hello?” Linda answered from the other end.  
“Lin? It’s George. George Harrison.”  
“Oh, hi George. Is it very important? Paul isn’t really in a speaking mood.”  
“It is.”  
“Ok...One moment.”  
A few seconds later Paul’s voice comes on the phone, laking its usual cheery tone.  
“What’s the matter, George?” Paul sighed.  
“I was just calling to let you know I have John...I figured you would want to know. I’m taking him to Cynthia’s. He wants to speak with her.”  
“Thank you for calling. I was a bit concerned as to where he went.”  
“What happened, Paul? He was in a state when he came into the studio.”  
“Had a bit of a row.”  
By the tone of Paul’s voice, George could tell this wasn’t a simple fight. It was one of those fights where John cut deep, got personal with his words.  
“Oh...ok.” George figured it wasn’t his place to ask for details.  
“Thanks for calling, George. I’ll see you in the studio tomorrow.”  
“Yea, goodbye.” George hung up the phone and sighed. “God, these two are like a fucking old married couple” He grumbled to himself as he walked out to the car and got in the driver’s side. “You’re sure about this?” He turned to John.  
“I’m positive. It’s time I got this shit sorted.”  
George simply nodded and proceeded to drive them to Cynthia’s home in Kenwood.  
When they arrived in the driveway, George didn’t move. “I’ll wait...This isn’t something I should be involved in.”  
John took a breath and got out of the car, walking up the pathway to the front door. He raised a shaky hand and knocked on the door. He heard someone run to the door.  
“I’ll get it!” a small voice yelled into the house.  
When the door opened, John didn’t see anyone. Then he looked down and saw a young boy at the door. The boy looked up at him than behind him where Cynthia was stood with wide eyes.  
“Daddy’s here!”


	10. Chapter 9

June 9, 1969

“Thanks for letting me know, Cyn, and I’ll give you a ring later alright?” Paul had almost been relieved to get her call...almost. As he hung up the phone he processed what Cynthia had said, John was on his way home and Paul could only guess what kind of mood he would arrive in.   
Dealing with John was like a bad round of roulette, but instead of one bullet in the barrel, it was an almost fully loaded gun. One could never quite guess how John would react to a situation. Of course, Paul, being an eternal optimist, always hoped for the best.  
“He could go either way, Lin. What if he comes here just to spite me? Just to twist the knife.”  
“Then we will deal with it together, just like we do everything else.” Linda reached for Paul’s hands and turned him to face her, “Paul, you can’t let him do this to you every time things get out of balance. You put all the blame on yourself and let it eat you up. He wants to be treated like an adult, so let him take responsibility for what he’s done.”   
Paul looked at the love of his life and gave her a sad smile “You’re right, as always, but that’s just not how we work. He may think he’s ready to be treated as an adult, but he doesn’t know what being an adult is” He leaned down, kissed her forehead, then rested his head against hers.   
“I love--”  
For once John knocked on the front door. Usually, he would walk in without warning, but this time was different. Paul took a deep breath and walked to the door, opening it slowly. He couldn’t even say hello before John was speaking.  
“I’m ready to be honest with you if you’re ready to be honest with me.” John waited a beat before he continued, “Why didn’t you get me away from Yoko? I keep hearing from everyone how toxic she was for me, yet it sounds like you never even tried to get me out from under her influence.”  
Paul looked at John, inhaled and held it for a moment before releasing. “We tried John.” he sighed as he turned and walked back toward the sitting room. “Every day I told you how I didn’t trust her, we all did. You were the one who chose to ignore it.” Paul felt as if this conversation would never end, he would be stuck in a constant circle of trying to convince John that he was at fault for is own actions.   
“Classic McCartney, blaming everything on me. You know, I never had this mess in my life until you came along. Stuart has always been honest with me, none of this feelings bullshit. I should call him if I want the truth.”  
Paul winced inwardly as he heard the name. Stuart was a major part of John’s life that hadn’t come up. “John...”  
“What? Have you driven Stu out of my life?”  
“No John, Stuart hasn’t been around for quite some time.”  
“Well, where has he been?”  
Paul knew he would have to choose his words carefully.  
“Stuart passed away in 1962, John. He had a brain aneurysm, no one could have done anything to help it.”  
John’s face was an open book, he was clearly trying to process this new information. Something was stirring in his brain, but the picture was unclear. He could remember a dusty, barely furnished flat outside of London. He could see Stuart working on yet another painting that would inevitably be sold to pay rent. He could picture Stuart walking toward the fridge and grabbing two pints. He could feel the cold bottle in his hands, condensation already forming as the warm summer air touched the bottle. He could hear Stuart laugh and see his smile… that smile. He could feel that same familiar fondness as he did with Brian. The fondness seemed to be a wound that never fully closed, a feeling that was still pulling at his heart. A feeling he couldn’t fully place.   
John was then jolted out of his reverie by the screaming laughter of a child being chased about the house by Martha. The dog’s attention was quickly diverted when she became aware of John’s presence in the room, making her way over to greet him. Martha, noticing John’s isolated stare, nudged his arm gently as if to say ‘I’m here!’ He moved his attention to the dog in front of him, petting her softly.  
“John, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner. I hadn’t thought about it until you brought it up. It’s been so long, you know…”  
“No I don’t know, and it wasn’t like you ever cared about him. If anything, Paul, you hated him. You would always make me choose, him or you. You both made it a competition and I was the prize. Well, congratulations you won!”  
“It wasn’t like that John, You know that. Why are we doing this again? Why does everything have to come back to a fight?”  
“Because it seems to be the only way you’ll come out of your own head enough to listen to me!”  
Silence erupted in the Cavendish home. The two men stood staring, daring the other to say another word. It seemed like hours had passed when Linda broke the silence, “Heather, sweetheart, go up to your room and I’ll be up in a minute to tuck you in, ok?”   
The two continued the juvenile staring contest until the sound of tiny footsteps disappeared, putting the room back into unsettling silence. John was the first to walk away, making his way up the stairs. Paul sighed and looked to Linda, “At least he didn’t leave this time”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Paul arrived at the studio around 6:15 that morning, early enough for him to have some time alone. As usual, he didn’t want anyone to hear the song until he had smoothed over all the little bumps. Normally this time of the morning would leave him undisturbed for at least an hour, but George proved him wrong.   
George had decided to come in early to work on one of his own songs, thinking he would beat Paul. He had his own music to work on and he preferred to work without having John or Paul peering over his shoulder like a nosy school teacher.   
When George stepped inside he quickly realized he wasn’t the first person there. Of course he knew it would be Paul, but something wasn’t right. The song sounded so out of character for Paul. George was so deep in his own thoughts that he hadn’t heard the piano stop.  
“Standing there isn’t going to do anything for you, you know.”   
“What was that about?”  
Paul chuckled, “You don’t have to pretend you care, George.”  
“This song doesn’t sound like you, a ballad I mean. Those are rare for you, do you have a name for this one?”  
“I was thinking of calling it oh darling”  
George took a moment and nodded a bit, “play it again, I want to hear the lyrics.” He took a seat and removed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting one as he settled in. The more lyrics Paul sang the more George’s confusion grew. Who could this song even be about? Paul was with Linda and as far as he knew Linda hadn’t left him. The only person who had really left him would be...No, this is a love song. This song begs the person not to leave, promising love and care. It must be about Jane Asher. It had to be...right?  
“So? What do you think? Is it worth keeping or is it just a bunch of shit?”  
“Everything ok with you and Linda?”  
“Of course it is, why wouldn’t it be?”  
“The song Paul, who are you trying to hold on to?”  
If Paul had an answer, he wasn’t able to say it. Ringo and John chose that moment to walk through the studio door.   
“Let’s get right into whatever we have to do. I’m not in the mood to sit around and feel useless all day” John commented quickly.  
“Paul’s got a song.” George added. He needed the other two to hear it, he needed to know what they thought.  
“Well get on with it. I don’t want to be here longer than I have to,” John snapped.  
Paul gave a quick nod and took a breath before he began to play the song again.  
John couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed. Paul’s writing had come a long way since John had last listened to something the man had worked on. These lyrics were full of emotion, real feelings, not just some narrative that Paul thought would sell. But as he continued to listen he heard a lyric that may as well have slapped him in the face.  
“When you told me you didn’t need me anymore, well you know I nearly broke down and cried.”  
“Stop! Are you kidding me? Is this some twisted joke of yours? Is this supposed to mean something to me? Christ, Paul what are you trying to do?”  
“What are you talking about? I’m not trying to do anything John, it’s just a song.”  
Ringo gives them both a look before chiming in. “What the hell happened with you two?  
“Ritchie-” Paul starts but is quickly interrupted by John.  
“None of your fucking business.” He added as he stood up, walking out of the studio.   
Something then clicked for George. This song was not about Jane Asher.


	11. Chapter 11

June 10, 1969

What was Paul thinking putting something he said in a song? Was this his way of trying to turn the others against him? What reasoning could he possibly have to take something that was just between the two of them, something private, and make it for everyone to hear? These thoughts kept making circles around his head as he walked into Cynthia’s home unannounced.   
John took a breath to calm himself when he heard Julian in the kitchen with Cynthia. He then proceeded to surprise the young boy, by picking him up to greet him. “What are you two doing in here, besides causing trouble?”  
Cynthia smiled when she saw the playful scene between the two of them. John seemed to be in a good mood, but she knew him all too well. “Julian love, why don’t you go put your toys away before dinner.” The boy sighed as John put him back on the floor.   
When Julian left the room, John’s demeanor changed. He no longer appeared to be relaxed and happy.  
“What’s bothering you, John?” Cynthia asked after a moment of quiet.  
“Paul can’t keep private matters private. Can’t even have a row with my best mate without everyone having to hear the details.”  
“If you two got in a fight, John, why are you here? You should be working this out with Paul.”  
“What’s the point, Cyn?”   
“The point, John, is that you can’t keep doing this. You can’t keep running from your problems. Running from them won’t make them go away.”  
“How would you know Cynthia? Since when are you the type to face a problem head-on?”  
“Well, I’m dealing with you aren’t I?”  
“You know what, Cynthia, I don’t need to deal with you. I’ve already got one dramatic woman in my life I don’t need two.” John turned towards the front entrance, walking to the door.  
“Daddy? Are you leaving again? Are you going to come back this time?”  
Cynthia looks to John, “I can’t help you out of this John, he deserves an answer.”   
John took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled, “No Jules, I’m not leaving”   
Cynthia sighed in relief, she couldn't say she wasn’t worried John would walk out.   
“John, would you mind keeping an eye on Julian? I have an errand to run, I shouldn’t be long and he'll be off to bed soon.”  
John gives a gentle nod, not meeting her eyes. “Yes...of course, Cyn”  
_________________________________________________________________________

Cynthia had a lot of things going through her mind as she pulled up to Cavendish. She felt bad for lying to John about where she was going, but she had no choice. She knew the fight between John and Paul had nothing to do with her and Linda, but it seemed to be this type of black hole that just pulled everyone else into its misery. She had to fix this situation, if not for her sanity then for Julians. The poor boy had finally gotten accustomed to having his father back in his life and if something were to happen that John would leave. . . she didn’t want to think about it.  
After John had left the first time Cynthia had built these walls that she promised she would let no one enter, but who knows better how to destroy the walls than the man who built them.   
Cynthia quietly collected her thoughts as she walked to the door and raised her hand to knock. It took only a moment before she heard footsteps rushing to answer.   
“Cynthia, hi.” Linda smiled as she opened the door, but she seemed flustered. It wasn’t as if Cynthia’s visit was a surprise.  
Cynthia walked into the house and hung her coat on the rack beside the entryway, “Is everything alright?”  
“I just want to be done with this mess, I miss the man I met last year. This man is...not Paul.”  
“Linda, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but that is Paul. That’s just how he is around John. They are like snakes who are always biting each other, almost dying from poison, too stubborn to admit that they need the anti-venom from the other to survive.”   
“That isn’t my Paul. That...That’s John’s Paul.”  
“He was never your Paul. Let me put it to you like this, I was with John for just around a decade. In that whole time he always cared more about Paul than he did me. For his twenty-first birthday, he and Paul went away to Paris and he didn’t even think about me. I wasn’t given a second thought. An addict will always choose his drug first.”   
Cynthia’s eyes scanned Linda’s puzzled face. “Do you understand what I mean? I accepted that I was only going to be second best. The only way to live with either of them is to realize that you don’t come first. They both need their music and for John, Paul is the music. They need each other.”   
The two women silently walked further into the house, but it wasn’t until they sat down that Cynthia said something further, “We may be second best, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be the best second best we can be. We still need to be there for them, because if they don’t have each other then we don’t have them. And that starts with getting those two adult children to speak to each other.”  
___________________________________________________________________

“Up to bed you go then.” John motioned for Julian to head up the stairs. He watched as the six-year-old gripped the railing, making his climb of the wooden staircase. As they reached Julian’s room, John smiled to see that Cynthia had laid out night clothes. He helped the boy get changed and lifted him into bed, tucking the covers in around him.  
“Daddy, will you tell me a story?” John’s eyes immediately widened, he had no idea how to tell a story that didn’t include foul language or was in some way vulgar. Cynthia always handled putting Julian to bed during his stay there, so it was unnecessary for John to worry about those things.  
“I don’t think--”  
“Just like you used to before you left!”  
John searched Julian’s pleading eyes. How could he say no to the boy who had finally gotten him back? “Well...what kind of story do you want to hear?”  
“I want a story with kings and queens and knights.”  
“Once upon a time, there was an evil king who lost his queen.”  
“How did he lose her daddy?”  
“Because he was stupid Jules...Anyway, on his search to find her he fell off his horse and hit his head. The king hit his head so hard that it caused him to forget everything and everyone. When he had awoken he looked up to see his favorite knight walk in with the queen right by his side. You see what the king didn’t know is that the queen had gone into hiding to protect herself and the young prince. The king, thinking nothing was wrong, began to approach his queen, but was pushed aside by the knight. The queen and her knight explained to the confused king that he had lost his memory and that he had done some wicked things.”   
John glanced down to see the young boy had fallen asleep during his story. He exhaled heavily and continued anyway, more for his own sake than Julian’s.  
“The king knew that it was his duty to win her back and that it would take time. But he didn’t give up, Jules...He won’t give up until he gets his queen back.”   
John, as quietly as he could, stood from his spot on Julian’s bed and walked to the door, shutting it softly.   
“That was sweet of you.”  
“Christ Cyn!” He whispered yelled as his heart almost jumped from his chest. “Do I need to put a bell on you?”  
“No, you would like that too much.” She smiled gently, “Can we talk downstairs for a moment?”  
“Yea, yes, of course.”  
The two made their way down the stairs and to the sitting room. They each found a seat and the silence took over.   
“John, I talked to Linda.”  
“Did you swap macaroni and cheese recipes?” he chuckled a bit at his own joke.  
“No John, this is serious. It’s about you and Paul.”  
“I don’t want to discuss this, Cyn. I told you already.”  
“I don’t care what you want John, we need to talk.” when he didn’t protest, she continued, “Why do you always hurt Paul? What sick pleasure does it bring you to knock down such a sweet person?”  
“I don’t do it for pleasure, Cyn…”  
“Then why John! You hurt him the same way you hurt me. Someone else gets under your skin and you take it out on him. All he ever does is try to help you and you consistently beat him down.”  
“I don’t know what you want me to say, Cynthia, I don’t have an answer for you...I don’t want to talk about this.”  
“You have to stop running John.”  
Something about those words sparked John’s memory. He could see the scene so vividly, the clearest memory he had so far. They were seated next to each other. John was hunched over his hands in his hair as he was trying to think of what to say. Cynthia was sitting straight up with one hand in her lap and the other rubbing John’s back.   
“John, I need an answer. Are we going to try and make us work? “  
“I don’t know, Cyn.”  
“I don’t know isn’t an answer. We have to stop running from this John, you have to stop running.”


	12. Chapter 11

June 11, 1969

John walked the stairs that morning in a sort of a funk. He hadn’t been himself lately and it wasn’t hard to tell why.   
John came into the kitchen to find Cynthia at the table sipping her morning tea.   
“Morning, Cyn,” he greeted gently as he went to sit at the table with her.  
“No. No sitting. You’ve got somewhere to be within the hour. The car is already waiting for you.”  
“What? No, I don’t.” He met her eyes with a puzzled look.  
“You’re headed to Cavendish to speak with Paul. John, I don’t want you home until this mess is settled once and for all.”  
“Cyn list-”  
“No John you listen! If you want to try to make this work between us then you need to make this work with him. John if you can’t Get along properly with your best friend of 12 years then how in the hell would you make this work with me?”  
John quietly processed what she was saying. She was right, but he didn’t need to tell her that.  
“John, I need you to do this for me...I need you to do this for us.”  
“For us? Cyn, you can’t go around giving a man false hope like that just because you want something out of him.”  
“John, I’m serious. If you want there to be an us you need to talk to Paul.”  
“Fine. For us.”   
____________________________________________________________________________

John’s walk to the front door of 7 Cavendish Ave. was a lot different than that of his first visit. There was no sound of Martha being chased through the yard by a loud child or the fiancee on the front porch. No, this was definitely different.   
The air felt colder, the sky was bleak, and you couldn’t hear the usual chirping of the birds. It was as if they were the sun and the moon and their disarray was throwing the whole world off kilter.  
Normally, John would enter the house without warning, but this time that didn’t feel right. He didn’t feel very welcome. As he was about to raise his hand and knock, the door opened in front of him.  
“Oh..You’re here. Linda mentioned you would be.” he steps passed John and takes a cigarette from the carton in his hand. “Linda doesn’t want me smoking in the house anymore. Doesn’t want it around Heather.”  
John gave an awkward nod. He didn’t really care why Paul did what he did. It had nothing to do with him. “I’m not here to discuss smoking habits or the fact that Linda is now the man of the house.”  
“Then why are you here John?”  
“Don’t go playing dumb with me, Paul. You know exactly why I’m here and you know that I deserve answers.”   
“I don’t know what answers you think you’re here for John. I don’t have any for you.”  
“Bullshit!” John chuckled humorlessly, “You can’t play that game with me, Paul. I know you. Maybe I don’t have 12 years of memory with you but I have 3. And trust me, with someone as high maintenance as you, I remember those two years very well.”  
“So what grand answer are you here for then John?”   
“Where do I start?” John walked around the yard as he thought.   
“Can we at least have this talk inside? Our entire lives belong to the public, we could at least try and keep some things private.” Paul tried to reason.  
“What do you mean our entire lives? I have spent the last 3 months hiding, the public knows more about me than I do!”  
“John please. I’ll give you any answer you want, but can we please just talk about this inside.”  
Finally, John gave in. He walked inside the house without another word to Paul who followed him in, shutting the door behind them.  
“Now then...This fucking song you brought in.” John sat at the kitchen table, arms crossed in front of his chest.  
“What about it John? Why are you so stuck on this song.”  
“Because you wrote it about us,” John stated matter of factly.  
“What?   
“Paul, that was an argument we had. You used my words against me.”  
“John you’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”  
“Your lyrics Paul! I told you I didn’t need you anymore.”  
“Oh...You mean that one.”   
John chuckled and looked up at Paul, “Amazing. You can remember every note to the song you wrote when you were 15, but you’re gonna sit here and act like you don’t remember the song you wrote two days ago?”  
“They’re just words, John! Why are you so caught up on them?”  
“Because it means I’m right.”  
“Right? About what?”  
“That song! Your lyrics! It’s about us!”  
“Just because I used those words doesn’t mean it has to be about you. Millions of people have used those words.”  
“Ah, I see. So it’s pure coincidence that I say it and two days later it’s in your song?”  
“Yes, John. I heard you say it and it helped me think of some lyrics.”  
“Right there! You just said it! My words inspired your song!”  
“Christ John I cannot sit here and play this game with you. I’m done fighting...I want our friendship back. I want to have a laugh with you again.” Paul looked down and shook his head. “What the hell have we become? An old married couple bickering about every little thing?”  
“Paul just tell me...Please...Was the song written about me? Not just that line. The whole song.”  
A long silence followed. John knew he wasn’t being ignored, he could clearly see the wheels turning in Paul’s head. He was thinking hard about this. As Paul finally looked up at John to answer, he was met with John putting a hand up.   
“You know what, don’t. Don’t answer me now ok? Just think about it, because when you finally do give me an answer I want it to be the right one. I want it to be the truth…” John stood up and stepped over to Paul, hugging him tightly and then pulling away. “I’ll see you soon.” he gave a nod and walked out, closing the door softly behind him.  
Paul stood in silence for a moment as he processed what had just happened. The song...What John said. Was he right? Was that whole song about him?


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12 

June 11, 1969

John had a lot of different thoughts going through his head as he started his walk to EMI. What was he expecting Paul to tell him? What did he want Paul to tell him? He tried to push his thoughts aside as he walked through the door to the studio, stopping at the reception desk.   
The usual receptionist smiled up at him and began to say good afternoon, but was cut off by John.   
“I need you to call me a car,” he instructed, “and write down Ringo’s address for the driver.” The young receptionist compiled without a response, quickly ringing the driver. As soon as John was sure she was handling the task he stepped outside, anxiously lighting a cigarette as he waited.   
John needed to tell someone what he felt, what was going on. If he were to tell Cynthia she would tell him that he needed to grow up. As for George...well he could never be too sure with George. With everyone checked off the list all he had left was Ringo.   
John wasn’t exactly close with Ringo. He couldn’t remember if they had ever been really close. It frustrated him that he couldn’t remember this particular piece of his life. He could remember George and he could remember Paul...But Ringo he hadn’t a clue. He hadn’t even had a memory of him that would help put things together.  
Before he knew it John was in the car approaching Ringo’s house. As usual, he had gotten lost in his own thoughts, caught up chasing something he didn’t think he would ever catch. He didn’t say a word to the driver he stepped out, shutting the car door behind him and walking to Ringo’s door.   
John hesitated to knock. He didn’t know if this is what he really wanted to do. Should he be spilling these thoughts to someone else? Would Ringo think he was crazy for coming up with theories? Finally, John takes a breath and knocks on the door.   
“John?” he finally hears Ringo’s voice, pulling him into reality.   
“Can I come in? Or...you can come out here, I don’t know. I need to talk to you.”   
Ringo didn’t know what to think, he’d never seen John flustered like this.  
“Yea, of course, come in. Are you ok? What’s going on? Is it Paul?”   
“Why do you assume it’s Paul? Just because I have a problem with something it must be Paul?”  
“Easy easy, you’ve been having problems with him so…”  
“You act like we’re an old married couple.”  
Ringo closed the front door, taking a seat on the step of the front porch “That’s because you are. I mean you might as well be, think about it, John, you guys have been together for years and every time you grow tired of each other you fight, run to your separate rooms, and then pretend as if nothing happened and you’re in love again.” Ringo didn’t sound angry or even annoyed, he sounded like he was merely trying to show John what everyone else sees.   
“If you’re trying to say something just say it!” John’s pacing finally came to a stop, though honestly, he couldn’t remember when it had started.  
“John have you ever considered that maybe...I don’t know...there’s a little more going on between you two than you’re willing to see?”  
“What the fuck, Richard?!” John quickly turned to snap at him, “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”  
“John...Come on mate don’t get upset I’m just trying to help.”  
“I don’t know why I came here, I need to go.”   
“John, just slow down let’s wo-”  
“No! I need to...I need Cynthia.”  
________________________________________________________________________

Cynthia had been sitting in the dark for hours waiting for John to come home. Three cups of tea and two phone calls to Linda later, Cynthia had become beyond worried.   
“Cynthia! Cyn, are you home?” John came bursting through the front door of the previously quiet home.   
Cynthia rushed to the front of the house, “John, quiet you’ll wake--.”   
In one swift movement, John grabbed Cynthia’s face smashing his lips against hers. This is right, this is what I’m supposed to be. John deepened the kiss as he pushed Cynthia against the wall of the entryway. I love her, I only love her.  
Cynthia couldn’t quite process what was happening, but it set her entire system into shock. It felt as if the two of them were teenagers again, back in that dusty club they would drink it. Like the first time, they kissed, trying to convince her that they belonged together. This time was different though as if she wasn’t the one he was trying to convince.  
John had calculated their every move, not wanting to waste a second or give either of them a chance to think. He made sure not to break the kiss as he pulled her towards the nearby couch in the living room, stumbling blindly in its direction.  
“John…” she whined quietly, no real power behind her voice. Before she could try and form a real thought she was laid back on the couch, a strong presence above her.  
John broke the kiss only to press his lips against her neck. The gentleness of his actions was a stark contrast from where they had started. It was such a shock that she almost didn’t notice the movements of his hands untying her robe. But she did notice.  
“John, wait.” She finally spoke, and pulled her knees to her chest, putting John’s actions to a stop. “You can’t just do that. You can’t just come barging in after not saying a word to me all day and--”  
“I want there to be an us again, Cynthia.”   
That was all she needed to hear. This time it was Cynthia to pull John into a kiss, something soft and gentle. This time as he set his hands to work untying her robe, she noticed but didn’t stop him.


	14. Authors’s Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies...

Darlings, i need a co author. Mine has dipped on me and I’m all alone. (Which is why there has been no update) please let me know if you’re interested. My email is Bohr30@gmail.com (I use that for google hangouts as well so hit me up)


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